


and the rain will come (just not yet)

by asianlychallengedasian



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, End of game spoilers, Family, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I use Akira whoops, Implied Autistic Yusuke, Pain, Post Shido's Palace, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trauma, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, blood mention, but I'm not good at writing relationships, can be read as shukita, post-interrogation room, pre-ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:19:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23382928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asianlychallengedasian/pseuds/asianlychallengedasian
Summary: There are many things that Akira Kurusu is accustomed to.The smell of brewing coffee. The taste of spicy curry. The feeling of running his fingers through Morgana’s fur. The looks of joy on his friends’ faces. The accomplishment of being able to find something no one else can quite see. The sound of rain striking against the roof of LeBlanc....Their quiet murmurs about him, however, are not something he is at all accustomed to.
Relationships: Yusuke Kitagawa & Kurusu Akira
Comments: 3
Kudos: 128





	and the rain will come (just not yet)

**Author's Note:**

> [John Mulaney voice] I'm gay, I have AIDS, and I'm new in town
> 
> FJJSDJSDF okay so I want to say, I began writing this right as I finished the game, so some of the characterization may be off??? And It took me a Long Time To Write This so dfsajjafds! I think its finally good enough to send to the AO3 hounds, though!

There are many things that Akira Kurusu is accustomed to.

The smell of brewing coffee. The taste of spicy curry. The feeling of running his fingers through Morgana’s fur. The looks of joy on his friends’ faces. The accomplishment of being able to find something no one else can quite see. The sound of rain striking against the roof of LeBlanc.

...Their quiet murmurs about him, however, are not something he is at all accustomed to. Worried, gentle whispers he wouldn’t be able to pick up unless he stood at the top of the stairway and listened intently to Futaba and Sojiro. Of course, he can’t pick up everything, but it was  _ injury  _ this,  _ trauma  _ that. 

_ It can only be a matter of time.  _ A matter of time before what? Akechi finds him? Before Shido is taken down?

...Before he, inevitably, breaks down?

Akira is not stupid. He’s at the top of his class, when he’s actually going to school. He  _ knows  _ the shit he’s been through isn’t good. He  _ knows  _ he’s hurt. But, his body- although still maimed and injured- and his heart- still scared and alone- needs this. However petty it is, Akira needs this.

He needs to take Shido down. So he can finally get some rest.

But taking Shido down turns into reforming society. Reforming society turns into fighting Literally God Themself. 

And Akira’s so, so tired. He’s bone weary, he’s exhausted, and as a cherry on top, it’s only going to get worse. Because apparently, he’s responsible to send himself to prison for the third time. 

Maybe that’s why it comes so easily when Yusuke visits late in the night. Akira hadn’t been sleeping right since he got back, the expanse of time skewed by the time underground and time spent asleep afterwards. Nor did he sleep well in the first place, with the ever rampant nightmares that seige him every sleeping moment. He’s thankful that Sojiro keeps an abundance of coffee beans within the shop, else Akira doesn’t know if he would’ve survived.  And sure, his heart may palpitate, and sure he may feel like puking, but he’s fine. He’s alive. He’s busy.

Akira startles when the bell to the store rings as he’s making a cup of coffee-  _ that’s weird, I could’ve sworn I locked it _ \- before his hand with the brew pauses over the cup.

His tired gaze falls upon an equally exhausted looking Yusuke. His eyes flicker around, before landing on Akira. Akira realizes the brew’s been overflowing, so he quickly puts the coffee back on the burner, switching it off. 

“Haven’t the last trains for the night already run?” Akira decides, while cleaning. Akira notices- what doesn’t he  _ not  _ see, honestly- an almost imperceptible slump of his shoulders.

“...I just wished to see you.” Yusuke sits at the bar, where the spilt coffee had been moments ago.

Akira’s lip quirks upward indiscernibly, and he leans on the now clean counter. Even after a month of rest-- well, rest-ish, ignoring all the ‘extracurricular’ activities he got up to in the afternoon and evenings, when everyone was free-- his ribs still twinged with pain any time he moved them wrong. “Do you want some curry?” Akira asks, somewhat breathlessly.

Yusuke shakes his head, “No, I couldn’t impose on you like that-” 

“We have some leftovers from tonight.” Akira cuts him off quickly, “I’ll heat some up, feel free to set up in one of the booths.” Before Yusuke could protest, Akira turns away towards the small kitchenette. Akira can only hear the dissatisfied sigh, the shifting of clothes and the scraping of the bar stool against cold tile.

Tile, tile. It’s easier to get blood off of tile. Still, he wonders if there isn’t some trace of blood in that tiny holding cell. He doesn’t know how long he was in there, but with how much blood he lost, it would be insane for them to be able to clean it all up. Especially when they never even checked if he had truly died. 

The curry heats on the stove, and he shovels rice onto the plate. Two plates, one for him, one for Yusuke. Because while he, Futaba, and Sojiro had eaten beforehand, Akira wants to get one last meal, one more, before…

“Akira, the curry.” Yusuke’s voice sounds of distant frustration. Maybe he had been trying to catch his attention. No time to dither on that, however. Akira removes the pot from heat, and pours the reheated curry onto the plate. There would still be plenty in the morning.

He carries the finished curry over to the table where Yusuke sat. Yusuke’s staring at his sketchbook, pencil in hand, but nothing on the page. Looking at him, Akira almost could tell why.

He looks absolutely wrecked, and Akira doesn’t blame him. They had faded from existence, then defeated a God within a few hours span. Akira thinks anyone would be at least tired from such an experience. Still, his hair’s a mess, his clothing’s rumpled, and he looks more pale than usual- or maybe it was just the eye bags, which muddled his dark greyish-blue eyes to a murky black-ish color.

Akira places the food in front of Yusuke, and his own across from the artist. The aroma of coffee wandered around the small cafe. It occurs to him that he still has yet to finish the coffee, and he turns away once more.

But this time, a hand grabs his arm, and it takes everything in his body to withhold a flinch. Akira throws a glance over his shoulder, and discovers one of Yusuke’s hands wrapped around the crook of Akira’s elbow. The exhaustion is still clear in his eyes, but Akira can spot something else hidden behind everything. Worry? Sadness?

Yusuke stops him bodily, in an elegant way that only Yusuke could pull off. “Akira, sit down and eat, won’t you?” Yusuke asks, looking into Akira’s eyes with those doe eyes. Akira averts his own.

“The coffee is still on the burner,” Akira starts.

“And the burner is off. Please.” Yusuke cuts him off. “You don’t have to work yourself to the bone right now.” 

Akira’s hand clenches around something invisible, but he sits down across from Yusuke. Akira picks up the silverware, muttering a quiet ‘thanks for the food’ before putting his spoon to the food. A few moments of silence pass, as Yusuke simply stares at it. Same as Akira.

“...Not hungry either?” Akira chooses to break the silence. Akira puts down his spoon.

“How are you?” Yusuke asks abruptly, completely disregarding Akira’s conversational piece.

Akira takes a moment to respond. “...What do you mean?” He can’t just say, ‘Oh, I’m good,’ because after the day they had, there’s no way that won’t be seen through. But if he said anything else– he can’t say anything else.

“How are you coping, with everything going on?” Yusuke clarifies, “Everything since November.” Yusuke asks. “It’s certainly been rough on all of us, I can hardly imagine how it’s been for you.” 

Akira averts his eyes, sighing. “Did Futaba set you up to this?” Because Akira’s heard the whispers. He’s heard the murmurs. “I’m fine.”  _ Except he’s not, he wants help, he wants someone to help him.  _

Isn’t it clear? 

“With all due respect, I hardly find that plausible.” Yusuke puts his elbows on the table, food forgotten. “You don’t need to act like a leader right now.”

Akira’s temper flares. “ _ With all due respect, _ ” He hisses, “What else am I supposed to act like?” Because, because all he is to them is a  _ leader _ . He isn’t  _ perfect,  _ but he has to be. __

Yusuke leans forward, just as irritated. “You’re not a perfect being, you’re human just like the rest of us. You’re our  _ friend _ , you’re not alone, Akira.”

_ You’re human. _

_ You’re not alone. _

_ You’re our  _ friend.

]Akira- Akira takes pause. He knows that, why does it stop him in his tracks. Does he know that? He’s their  _ leader,  _ but he’s also their friend. After today, he couldn’t even be their leader. How could someone lead from behind prison bars? Even removing that, there’s no more metaverse. The metaverse is gone. Destroyed. They shot a god in the face, and now Morgana is gone, along with almost all traces of their powers. There’s nothing that made Akira special now, ignoring a criminal record.

If he can’t be a leader, what can he be? He only has one thing left, and honestly… He had no idea how to be a friend without being a leader. He never had friends before coming to Tokyo; why would they even want to hang out with him if the Metaverse wasn’t involved? They’d drift away, forget about him, leave him to rot in a jail cell until finally, finally, he’s released- and then what? Would he finally…-

“Akira,” Yusuke’s next to him, like he teleported through time and space. “Akira, focus.”

Focus? He  _ is _ focusing. On his future, or lack thereof.

“Akira, you’re here. In Leblanc. You’re not wherever you think you are.” Akira feels Yusuke’s hands on his cheeks. When had he put them there? His hands are cold against his overheated face. Akira opens his eyes, and the world is blurry. Were his glasses off? Yusuke’s hands sweep over his face. Akira registers his face as wet. He’s crying. Why? When? A million questions race through his mind, but Yusuke’s face is so close, warm air slowly permeating the cold, freezing December air. “You’re okay.”

Akira can only stare into the murky water of Yusuke’s eyes. Concern shines through his perception, above all the exhaustion and grief. Despite the haze of dark clouding the artist’s vision, there’s still a sharpness to them– they’re bright, contrasting how dark he felt. The duality of man, or something of the like. Despite being into the arts, he couldn’t say he knows much about how artistry works. 

Akira’s shoulders fall as the unnoticed stress bleeds from his being. Looking into Yusuke’s eyes, smelling the ever so slightly burnt coffee, everything’s familiar, but not quite the same. Everything’s different. The feeling of his pants creasing and rubbing against his skin under the grip of his hands. The bitter taste of bile. It's snowing. It’s all foreign to him, but nothing that he hadn’t felt before. 

Yusuke’s there. Everything’s weird, and it probably would never be the same again. But, of course, everything changes. Akira just… didn’t expect it to be so soon. But he should know things change too much too fast. Akira grinds his teeth. He takes a deep breath. His breath slows down to a socially acceptable pace, and his tunnel vision widens. He’s back in the cafe. He’s safe. He’s here. He’s in LeBlanc.

...Of course, he wouldn’t be for long. Akira glances at the clock; it’s midnight. He had another eight hours at most, before… before.

“I don’t want to go.” Akira breathes, “I want to stay.” 

Yusuke’s dim eyes fill with confusion. “What do you mean?” He asks.

Honestly, he’s held his tongue with Sojiro, he’s held his tongue with Futaba, but he knows he can’t do this anymore. He doesn’t want to worry them, as their leader… But as their friend, he thinks he owes it to them. He owes it to himself, he admits slowly.

“I have to make a testimony against Shido.” He says. Yusuke’s smart, and he doesn’t want to say more. Akira doesn’t think he could say more without crying. He hopes that Yusuke can understand.

“I suspected as such, as a victim of his villainy.” Yusuke says, and Akira  _ knows  _ he’s not getting it, he knows he has to be more descriptive, but for once, the dramatics won’t come. He’s trapped in his own mind. The  _ words _ will hardly come.

“As myself… And as a phantom thief.” He chokes out.

“What? But there could only be one way to…” Yusuke pauses, his eyes lightening with recognition. “Akira-”

“I have to,” Akira says, more of a word than a sentence. “You have to understand. I have to.” He has to, he has to, he doesn’t want to, but he must. “If I don’t, they’ll arrest us all.” He says, shortly, not relying on his throat to betray him.

“There, there has to be a better way,” Yusuke looks down at his sketchbook, before his eyes raise to Akira’s face. It’s almost desperate, frantic. His eyes hold a gleam of fear, and reluctance. Akira can’t believe he’s faring much better.

“No, there isn’t,” Akira insists, “I’ve thought through everything. There’s nothing I can do.” Akira subtly wraps his arms around himself.

“Why not ask one of us to go in proxy?” Yusuke offers, almost as a plea. “You’re still healing, you need more time-”

“But isn’t that exactly why  _ I  _ should go?” Akira says, “I’m the one who has a criminal record. I’m the one who’s been in a holding facility before.” He shivers, bones aching in phantom pains. “I have to, I have to do this, because-” His voice cracks. “Because I can’t have you all going through that.” Akira whispers out.

Yusuke doesn’t move for a moment, but when he does, it’s all at once. Suddenly- or maybe not so suddenly, time moves around Akira like molasses but still as fast as a rollercoaster- Yusuke has his arms wrapped around Akira.

“I’m not very skilled at this, yet I thought I would offer myself as solace, at the very least,” Yusuke says. Sure, the hug is awkward at first, with Akira’s face squished into Yusuke’s chest, but slowly, and surely, Akira hugs back. 

Akira lets himself fall apart in Yusuke’s grip. Because- because they’re friends. Because he doesn’t always have to be the leader. He deserves to be comforted. Even if tomorrow came, and tomorrow will come, even if his friends couldn’t be there, they were still by his side. Because he’s more than a leader. He’s a friend- no, they’re all his family. And family, despite some connotations, takes care of each other.

Akira sobs, tears soaking Yusuke’s chest. “I don’t wanna go,” he repeats as a mantra into Yusuke’s chest. “I’m so, so so sorry,” Akira begs. 

Yusuke whispers quiet words into the night, ones that Akira doesn’t understand. Akira buries his face deeper into his chest, letting all of his worries roll off of his back like water. 

Eventually, Akira’s tear wells dry, and he’s left sitting, still hugging the artist tight. With one final squeeze, Akira lets go. But Yusuke refuses.

“Um,” Akira whispers, reluctantly breaking the tranquil silence that followed his tears, “Yusuke…?”

Yusuke pulls back quickly, rubbing at his eyes. He isn’t subtle in the least, as he turns to face the other way. “Apologies, I’m still new to many hugging rituals.” He says. Akira’s heart pangs in sympathy, but he switches the subject.

“Will…” Akira looks away, wiping his face clean of tears. “Are you staying tonight?” Akira rewrites the sentence he had in his mind, forming a different question. 

Yusuke turns back slightly. “Am I sleeping on the couch, once again?” 

Akira lets out a weak laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “It doesn’t really matter to me, if you sleep in the same bed with me.” Akira looks away. “Especially with Mona…” Akira’s heart twinges at the thought of his feline friend. Gone…

“Then I shall sleep with you,” Yusuke stands from the booth, and Akira’s immediately red to the tips of his ears.

“Yusuke, I’m not sure you’re using that phrase right-” Akira gets cut off as Yusuke strides up the stairs to the attic. Akira watches him go. He lets out a long breath, before laughing.

Akira shakes his head, before standing once more. He had to pick up before he could go upstairs. It’s the least he can do. As he picks up the dishes and takes them to the sink, Akira can feel a weight off of his shoulders. He feels- he doesn’t feel good, not at all. But he feels- listened to. He feels… safe, at least for the time being.

And really, Akira can’t ask for more right now.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed <3


End file.
